Family Obligations: Daddy Dearest
by HowlynMad
Summary: The Joker is injured and on the run. The GPD is closing in, what's a clown to do? The Joker finds himself playing daddy to a most unusual child. Mature themes. Twisted. Plz read complete summary on page 1.
1. Chapter 1

_Please be aware that while this story is not graphic it does contain violence and references to child abuse. There will NOT be anything explicit and it will NOT be perpetrated by the Joker. If anything, you may consider the Joker to be the anti-hero of this story. This is part of the Family Obligations universe which follows TDK faithfully except with the added plot point that Bruce Wayne discovers that his infant brother, thought dead, is actually the Joker. You don't need to know anything more of that story to enjoy this one. (I hope you enjoy it)_

Daddy Dearest

_You remind me of my father... I hated my father._

The Joker half ran, half limped along the street, sirens screaming behind him. Well, that hadn't gone exactly to plan. The detonation had been a full ten seconds ahead of schedule. When dealing with high explosives ten seconds could be the difference between living and ending up as street pizza.

He had no one to blame but himself, he had rigged the entire operation. Still, he'd probably feel much better about it if he tortured a couple of lackeys when he got back to the hideout... _**if**_ he got back to the hideout. The sirens were awfully close now.

Joker ducked into the nearest alley and found himself in a dead-end. He sighed, "You know what they say, when life hands you lemons... make nitro glycerin and blow the hell out of something." He giggled lightly and turned back the way he'd come. Strobing lights reflected off the brick walls stopped the Joker in his tracks. Maybe not.

He looked around for another way out. The only other option was up. There were fire escapes for the run-down tenements housed above the businesses. He hobbled over to a dumpster and hauled himself up. His leg was in pretty bad shape but he'd have to try the leap. The sound of a police radio convinced him now would be a good time and he leapt. His weakened left leg almost gave out but he got just enough height to grab onto the rung of the second floor ladder. He scrambled up to the third floor and flattened himself against the wall.

A police cruiser pulled up in front of the alley and shone its spotlight. The Joker frowned, if they turned the spotlight upwards they would see him. There was nowhere to hide on the metal struts. He pulled his semi-auto from his jacket and checked the clip. He had four rounds left. At this rate it looked like they'd be prepping his room at Arkam by morning.

As predicted the cops trained their lights upward and were scanning the fire escapes on the second floor. "Screw this," he muttered and cocked the gun. "Let's dance boys, I'll lead." Stepping forward he glanced something in his peripheral vision. A curtain was blowing through the crack in an open window. He smiled. With his back to the wall, he slid slowly over.

The Joker slipped into the darkened room and fell to the floor beneath the window. His bruised ribs protested and he groaned. The light shone into the room and he ducked his head. "I win," he whispered. His mind was a brilliant testament to chaos. This was more fun than a sack full of puppies, he thought and stifled a giggle.

The light moved on. He raised his head slightly. He could still hear the sound of police radios in the alley. They knew he was in the area. Some "good" citizen had spotted him. They wouldn't give up that easy. All he would need now is for the Bat to show up.

Sometimes it was more fun when a scenario didn't go exactly as planned, still he had a reputation to uphold. He was after all, the Joker. He couldn't be in and out of Arkham all the time. People would think he'd gone soft in the head. He giggled again. Then again, he didn't really give a shit what anyone thought. He could always just kill them.

A small click brought his thoughts into sharp focus.

Joker turned slowly, reaching into his jacket for the auto nestled there. The room was bathed in a soft glowing pink light. A hello kitty light to be exact. The Joker suddenly found himself staring into an elfin face with big blue eyes.

A small voice offered, "Hello."

Great, this was just what he needed, a screaming brat. "Shhh," he put his finger to his lips. "We don't want to wake your mommy and daddy."

"Don't worry, you won't. I'm by myself."

"I'm not worried." The Joker looked to the door and back to the window. Maybe things were looking up after all. "Your mommy and daddy are gone?"

The little girl nodded, "My mom went to the bar. Mostly she stays out all night. I don't remember my daddy but there's Glen. But he doesn't live here all the time."

That simplified things a lot. Still, children lied. "You sure you're alone? You seem kinda young. How old are you?"

"I've been ten for two whole months," the child responded with arms crossed. "You're the Joker aren't you?"

Joker scowled. "You know about me?"

The girl shrugged, "I know plenty about you."

"Is that right?"

The girl nodded. "That's the police outside looking for you isn't it?"

Joker fingered the blade in his pocket. "It's just a misunderstanding. You don't have to be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you."

Joker raised an eyebrow. The child really didn't seem to be afraid. "What's your name?"

"Emily."

The Joker stood unsteadily, his right side was throbbing dully. He leaned back against the wall next to the window. "Well Emily, I would really rra..therr the police didn't find out that I'm herre," he drawled.

"Did you kill a bunch more people?"

The Joker eyed her. "What do you know about killing?" He took a step towards the child his knife at ready.

Emily looked thoughtful. "I know some, I guess. But you could teach me more I bet."

Joker cocked his head, "You're a strange child aren't you, Emily."

She smiled.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Joker leaned back and nibbled on one of the chocolate chip cookies that the kid had given him. His side still hurt like hell but the bleeding had slowed. His accelerated metabolism gave him a decided advantage at times but it also made him ravenous.

He pulled his semi-auto from the holster and sat it on the bed next to him. He only had the four rounds but he figured it would be enough. Cops would let you get away with almost anything if they thought you were going to shoot a kid.

Emily sat at the other end of the bed. She was watching him with big blue eyes. Their crystal intensity made him want to gouge them out. "What!"

"How old are you?"

Joker pursed his lips. "Why do you want to know?"

"You asked me how old I was," a child's simple logic.

Joker shoved a whole cookie in his mouth, "One hundred and thirty seven."

Emily giggled, "Nu uh."

"How do you know?" he munched.

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because if you were that old, you'd be dead," she stated simply.

Joker nodded, "Fair enough." He nibbled another cookie.e ily sat at the other end of the bed. at the kid had given him. to see him and hadnt.o an emotional corner.

She looked at him expectedly. "So how old are you?"

The kid was just not going to let it go. He supposed the truth wouldn't matter. "I don't know how old I am."

"How come?"

"I have trouble sometimes.. with linear thought."

"Lin.. nee. neer?"

One quick caress of his blade and no more mind-numbing questions, "According to my brother, I'll be twenty eight this year."

"That's pretty old isn't it?" the child questioned innocently.

"Ancient," he acknowledged. Joker yawned. Another thing that happened to him when he was injured and healing was he went into a kind of shut-down mode. He would crave a lot of food and then want immediate rest. He lay his head back on the pillow.

"Are you tired? You can go to sleep if you want. I'll watch out for you."

Joker just looked at her. "You are a strange, strange child, Emily."

"I know, people say that about me all the time," she agreed.

Joker closed his eyes. "I wouldn't worry about it. They used to say the same thing about me."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Joker woke with a start. What the hell, his wounds must have been worse than he first thought. Yeah, take a little nap during a police man hunt. That'll work out well for you. He stretched, placing his hand to his side when it gave him a little stitch. The little girl was still sitting at the end of the bed, watching intently.

"I think the police finally went away. I haven't seen them in a while. You feel better?"

He looked over at the hello kitty clock. One AM. "Still tired."

"I brought you water." She pointed to the pink nightstand next to the bed.

He took the offered water and drank it down. The Joker casually inspected the room. It was a startling shade of pink. In fact, almost everything in the room was a shade of pink. "I feel like I'm drowning in Pepto Bismal."

"What's that?"

He shook his head, "Nuthin."

"Glen says my mom drinks like a fish, only not water. I like it better when she's not here."

Joker just looked at the child. His impression was one of a porcelain doll made to look like a real girl. They were beautiful and sinister with their glass eyes. He briefly wondered if his daughter looked anything like her. She would be about two now. But he had promised the Bat that he wouldn't even think about her or Harley. It was the first time he'd broken that promise.

"And Glen," she continued. Emily's clear blue eyes turned stormy. "I wish he was in one of the buildings you blew up. Then he'd be in all these little pieces. And the rats could come and eat him."

"I get the idea that you don't like Glen very much." Joker yawned.

The little girl frowned, "He hurts me."

How did he end up father confessor? Did he really look like the kind of clown you'd want to confide in? Maybe he was going soft in his old age. "So stop him."

Emily looked at him confused, "How? He's bigger than me."

"The best weapon you have is your mind... but this couldn't hurt." The Joker pulled a butterfly blade from his short boot and flipped it open one handed. "The next time he touches you, wait until he comes in close and then jam this into his groin."

The Joker motioned with the knife to his inner thigh. "Twist the blade. It'll open him up good. There's a lot of blood vessels there. You're bound to hit something. Then when he drops, you draw the blade across his throat and finish him off."

The Joker held the knife out to the young girl. "Go ahead, you can keep it. I have a bunch," he grinned.

The little girl reached out without hesitation and took the blade. "Thank you." she turned it over in her hands. "It's pretty. I like it."

"Fine gauge stainless steel. It'll never rust and it can take quite an im..pact without breaking," he paused, "You know, in case you hit bone."

She nodded, then looked up at him. She cocked her head first one way then the other. "Did it hurt?"

A slow smile spread across the Joker's face. He didn't need to ask what she was talking about. He'd heard the question once or twice... but never by the same person. "Excrucia..ting," he offered. "You know what that means?"

"Really bad?"

"Exactly." Joker pulled his favorite knife from his pocket. It was an "out the front" style auto blade with cut-out, reliable and sturdy. "You wanna know how I got my scarrrs?" he giggled.

"Uh huh," she responded in a hushed whisper.

The Joker leaned in close, almost nose to nose. Emily's eyes grew round. "See my old man, well, the man I thought was my father, left when I was two. Mom.. she was weak. She'duh latch-on to any guy that would pay her any attention. Which was kinda ridiculous since my.. "sorta".. mom could have written her own ticket." He clicked his tongue, "She was a hot number, my mom. Anyway, when I was ten, she hooked up with this bastard that liked things rough.. if you know what I mean-uh."

Emily paused, "You mean he hurt her? Like Glen hurts me?"

Joker's eyes glittered, he continued as if he hadn't heard the question. "I was twelve when I'd finally had enough of his bullshit. He wasn't going to hurt my mom or me ever again. I decid..ed he had to go... one way or the other. Mom was working the late shift at some shit diner that night. I waited until good ol..duh "Uncle Bob" fell asleep then I went in the kitchen and got myself a knife."

Joker paused for dramatic effect. You had to work your audience. "I had it all planned out, you see. I had garbage bags, towels, and tape. Earlier, I even rolled the dumpster over in front of our alley window. I thought I could just cut him up and haul him off with the garbage." Joker sighed, "I was young and impetuous, I'm afrai..duh."

Emily's mouth hung slightly open, "What happened?"

"Chaos intro..duced himself."

"I don't think I understand. Who's Chaos?" she asked, confused.

Joker wagged his finger at the young girl. "You're lucky you're so young or at this juncture I'd have to teach you a new lesson. But first things, first." He tossed his switch-blade from hand to hand lightly. "How I got my scars..."

_The boy inched his way towards the figure stretched out on the ratty orange sofa. His hand wrapped tight around a very sharp paring knife. He wasn't sure who he hated more, the abusive asshole that had ruined his life or his pathetic mother for allowing it to happen. _

_He stood over the snoring man, hate burning in his green eyes. He'd never killed anyone before but he wasn't afraid. This felt right. The rest of it was just logistics. He raised the knife high and brought it down as hard as he could..._

Emily gasped, "Whoa. So you did it? You killed him? Just like that?"

The Joker's eyes narrowed, "It's not po..lite to interrupt when a grown-up is talking. I won't remind you again."

The little girl nodded, "You're right. I'm sorry. I just got excited."

Joker's hands clenched and unclenched a couple of times then he broke into a huge grin. "That's ok, it _was_ exciting!" He slid off the bed and paced back and forth. "There was so much bloo..duh. I didn't know people had that much blood in them. As it turned out though, it's not so easy to cut people up. I was a smart kid, very smart I was told, but sometimes you just can't see the forest for the trees. I was about to get hit with a really big tree."

He walked over to the window and peeked out. The alley was clear in both directions. They were still out there searching, he knew it. He felt it. So predictable, no fun at all really. Now brother Bat, he was entertaining at least. The Joker returned his attention to his latest version of his favorite story.

"Sooo," he turned back to the child, "So there I am, covered from head to toe in blood, and sawing on the guy's arm with a big butcher's knife, when who comes home early.. but my mom. Talk about getting caught with your pants down," he chuckled ruefully, "So she just stands there with this look on her face." The Joker's voice drops low, "She doesn't scream, she doesn't run. She walks right up to me and picks up the paring knife I discarded and says, "You little bastard.. what have you done?"

"I thought it was obvious. So I told her... I'm saving you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "She didn't seem to see it that way."

"She backhanded me, knife in hand. See the left side here." The Joker knelt down on one knee and drew his finger along his skin, "See the scar here, how straight and slightly up, from the mouth along the cheek?"

Emily nodded.

"The blade caught me right along the left cheek and split it open. Talk about blood." Joker ran his hand through his greasy mop of green hair. "I didn't really mean to, but it all happened so fast. I was in pain and she was right there in front of me... so I stuck her in the chest with the butcher's knife." Joker sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. "Oddly enough, I didn't hate her anymore."

The child continued to watch him raptly soaking in every word and action.

"I don't know how long I sat there. Maybe, I was in shock. After awhile, I got up to use the bathroom... and got a look at my new face for the first time. I studie..duh myself in the mirror and knew there was something wrong. I wasn't... complete. So I took the paring knife and I drew the other side." Joker turned to the right, "Much more creative than what my mother did, I have to say."

"Wow." She studied his face, tracing every scar with her eyes.

"So the moral of the story, Little Emily, is that there is no moral. You're on your own kid, never forget that." He placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. "If you don't want Glen to put his greasy paws on you ever again, then you do what needs to be done."

"Will I get in trouble?" she questioned.

Joker grinned, "Little thing like you? Never, slap on the wrist at most. You get what you want and Glen gets what he deserves. Everything works out just peachy."

The little girl seemed to ponder his response, "Peachy. Will you help me?"

"Seriously Kid, do I look like a helpful sorta guy?"

Emily shrugged, "Grown-ups only seem to help when they want something. I helped you be safe from the police. Can't you teach me to be safe from Glen?"

What an odd little toy this child was, there was no fear at all. Joker wasn't sure if he liked that or not. He was used to sycophants. There were plenty of people attracted to the power of chaos. But few that understood what immersing themselves in that power would mean. You had to die to live again as an agent of chaos. There were so many ways he could play this game.

In the end, it didn't matter. The results would be the same. He corrupted everything he touched. It was just a fact of chaos, you left devastation in your wake... rather you meant to or not. It wasn't a bad thing in his opinion. Unfortunately, not many thought the same way.

Joker shrugged, "Why not."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Batman turned around and headed south. He'd covered the area north and west from where the Joker had first been spotted but so far no luck at all. More than likely the clown had already slipped the noose. The police seemed to think so anyway and had halted the search. But he wasn't so sure. Gordon and his special ops unit had been close on the Joker's heels, closer than they had been in months. Then he just vanished. He was damn good at that. Magic tricks, now you see him, now you don't. He was still in the area. He had to be. Which meant he had gone to ground somewhere and was waiting it out, problem with that, was that it was a residential neighborhood, families, kids, dogs, the works. If Joker was holed up then someone was in danger, serious danger. He needed to talk to Gordon again. He had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The Joker was getting seriously restless. He didn't like to be confined. He'd been locked in a small apartment with a babbling child for hours and it was starting to grate on his nerves. Didn't she ever sleep? He didn't even get some small relief in his scar story which usually ended with blood and satisfaction.

The duo had migrated into the living room. Joker turned on the TV and was surfing channels. There were a couple of hilarious news reports on his recent escapade but other than that it was a hundred and fifty mind numbing channels of banality. He tapped his fingers against the arm of the worn down chair. "I don't suppose you get porn?"

"What's that?"

Joker eyed her. "Yeah, never mind. Even I'm not _that_ twisted."

"So what did you do to make everybody so mad at you?"

Joker scowled, "Have I mentione..duh how much I don't like questions?" That look had made more than a few grown men piss their pants but didn't faze this kid in the least. It was annoying. He could always duct tape her, he considered. But then he'd be really bored. At least he had an appreciative audience. He tapped his fingers faster.

"So what do you want to do? I like to play games. Do you like to play games?"

Joker looked over at the child, amusement lit his eyes, "I love games. I play them all the time."

"I have a bunch. Which games do you like?"

"Hmm," the Joker cocked his head, "I have a bunch too, There's the one where I blow buildings into itty bitty pieces. Another where I take bunches of money and shoot lots of people but I think my favorite has to be what I play one on one with Batman."

Emily listened intently, her eyes widened, "Is he scary? He looks scary. What kind of games do you play with Batman?"

Joker started giggling. "All kinds."

"Do you win?"

Joker looked thoughtful, "Sometimes. Sometimes he thinks he wins. But it doesn't matter."

"I thought that you were supposed to win. Why play if you don't want to win?"

"Ever play chess, Emily?"

"Nu uh, that's too hard."

"Well, see, it's all about win..ning the war. You might have to lose some battles along the way but as long as those battles bring you closer to your goal... then it's ok to lose sometimes. In fact, sometimes it's better."

"Is that what happened to you tonight?"

Joker cocked his head, "I guess you could say it was something like that."

"I think I understand."

"Do you?" Joker asked curiously. He'd never spent much time with children that didn't involve a lot of crying and screaming, mostly by the brat's parents. This was new and not nearly as unpleasant as he thought it would be. Sure, she was annoying, but mostly it was the situation itself that was the problem. As long as the kid didn't cry, Joker thought she would probably make it out of this alive.

"Uh huh. If you want something bad enough you have to keep trying until you get it. That's the same isn't it?"

"You are wise beyond your years, Emily."

"My mom says I'm a pain in the ass. You want something else to eat? There's stuff for sandwiches in the kitchen."

Joker looked at his watch. It would be morning soon. There was no way he was getting out of this neighborhood during the day. He'd be spotted before he got ten feet. He brought his hand to his face. He could always clean up and get a change of clothes. The cops wouldn't be expecting that. He could probably stroll right by them and they wouldn't notice... except that he was hurt. If something did go wrong he would have little way to defend himself. Then again, the Bat didn't come out during the day and he was the only real threat. The Keystone Kops had never been able to catch and hold him, not unless it was what he wanted.

A whole day locked in this apartment with a rugrat, not ideal. He shrugged, there were always options. "Yeah, let's make some sandwiches, Kid."

Emily smiled at him.

"You got mustard?"

She nodded.

"We're gonna do just fine."

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

"So the last confirmed sighting was where exactly?"

Gordon pointed to the city map. "Grid Seven, here. We kept him on the move for almost an hour. There's no doubt he was injured. It was the only way we got that close in the first place. I tell you the guy is made of smoke. He's even made the FBI look like fools. They want his hide nailed to a wall about now."

Batman nodded, his brother had made a mistake. It didn't happen often but you couldn't control every variable. Problem was, luck always seemed to be on the Joker's side. "You've run the grids twice?

"I've run them three times as well as reinforcing the perimeters. We've started going door to door in the residential areas in case he holed up somewhere but this is Gotham, the amount of territory we need to cover... we don't have the man-power to be everywhere at once. Damn it!"

"We'll find him."

"Yeah? Three years, it's been three years! The couple of times we've been able to get our hands on him was either a set-up, _by him_, or he treated his confinement like a vacation." Gordon threw up his hands. "Then when he gets bored, he just escaped. I mean, what are we doing here? Is there a point?"

"You don't really mean that, Jim."

"Don't I? You know how many of my men are willing to just shoot him on sight now? These are good cops I'm talking about. I can't say I blame them. If I came face to face with him again...," he shook his head, "Why take the risk that he'll just escape and terrorize all over again? How many lives have been lost over these three years? For what! To play games with that freak of nature?"

"The Joker may be beyond redemption but there are many out there that aren't. How we choose to fight our battles may influence so much more than we realize. We have to keep the faith Jim, if not for our own sakes then for the others out there that can still be saved."

Gordon closed his eyes and when he opened them his expression was determined. "You're right. We'll beat the son of a bitch but on our terms.. not his. We'll show him that chaos does _not_ rule."

Batman nodded. That was why he respected Jim Gordon so much. He was a good man, willing to put aside his personal feelings to do what was right. Men like him were few and far between. "Call it a hunch but I think the Joker is a lot closer than we realize."

"So you think he went to ground inside the perimeter?"

"I do."

"That's a heavily residential area. God help us."

"And anyone he's crossed paths with," Bruce added.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Joker stretched out on the sofa and yawned. It was five am and the kid had finally crapped out. For that, he was grateful, he didn't know how parents managed kids twenty four, seven without tying them down... or at least taping their mouths shut. He turned the TV to GCN News to see what Gordo and his kooky koppers were up to now. You couldn't trust the news but if you were clever and read between the lines it would point you in the right direction.

He pulled one of his Glocks from the holster and sat it on the arm rest. The kid's mother hadn't come home yet but sooner or later she would have to show. She might have a "guest" in tow. They would both have to be neutralized quickly before they could raise an alarm. Joker glanced over to the over-stuffed chair where the little girl was curled into a ball. What would her reaction be to his killing mommy slut and her boy-toy? Would she scream and cry like all the others? Or would she surprise him by accepting it? He considered for a moment before deciding that he wouldn't kill the kid unless she put up a fuss.

Joker looked at the old faded wallpaper. These old tenements had thin walls. Luckily for him, the residents of these kind of places usually knew to mind their own business. Still, there was a reward out for him now. Even with his reputation, there would always be one or two really stupid people that would try and collect on it by turning him in. It would be their last mistake. Still, he didn't need any added attention right now.

Setting a precedent had been one of the first things he'd done when he came to Gotham. First by getting in the mob's face and stealing their money, then when one of the mob bosses put out a contract on him, he went right to Bossman Gambol's home and slit his throat from ear to ear while his men watched. It was important to show them he wasn't afraid of them or of anything that they could do... because he could do it better. Unimaginative thugs that they were, they were hardly any challenge at all except by benefit of their sheer numbers.

Of course, he hadn't been afraid of anything in a long, long time. Fear was pointless, once you accepted that death was the end game no matter what you did, then what was there to be afraid of? It established his commitment up front. And even though in the end the Bat had cheated by taking the blame for what Harvey Dent had done, he had still made his point.

Problem was, the general populace hadn't been made privy to the truth. If they had, the whole structure would have come crashing down at his feet. Joker frowned, his hand twitching around his gun. He'd played it fair and square but the Bat had cheated. If you couldn't trust an honest man to be honest.. well, that again just proved his point. Morality was a lie. The only thing you could really trust was the fact that people would always do what it was in their own best interest to do. All you needed to do was find the hook, they would do the rest for you. He was very good with hooks... and knives, and all manner of sharp objects.

The phone rang, interrupting the Joker's train of thought. He raised his hand pointing his gun at the offending device. The answering machine kicked on. "Hey Sweetie, it's Mommy. Listen baby, the shop called and asked me to work today and we really need the money. I stayed the night with a friend so I'm just going to go straight from here. I'll see you this afternoon, ok, baby. Love ya." There was a click and the machine turned off. Apparently, luck was on his side, though it might be more appropriate to say that mommy had luck on her side. Depending on how late the bitch was getting home he might not have to kill anyone. That was mildly disappointing, in his opinion.

Emily rolled over in her sleep and the little brown bunny she had been clutching fell to the floor in front of the chair. The Joker stood and walked over to where she lay in a ball. He leaned down and picked up the stuffed animal then made a face at it. Cocking his head, he studied her sleeping form. What was the point? He pressed the barrel of his Glock to the bunny and held the makeshift silencer in front of the child. This was compassion wasn't it? He was saving her from a life of endless banality and cruelty. He lowered the weapon. Since when did he offer compassion to anyone? Since when did he care? He leaned over and placed the bunny in the child's arms. He was bored and he just didn't do bored very well. He would have to find something to amuse himself... soon.

The Joker sighed and walked around the small apartment digging through drawers. God, ordinary people were so... ordinary. There was nothing fun here. A few hidden bottles of the cheap stuff and a couple of sex toys, he shook his head. These people were pathetic. Now he was starting to get angry. He smiled. His anger was sharp and jagged like broken glass. It cut little furrows in his mind and he bled memories. Accusations._"No good little runt. Get out of my sight."_ Lies._"My sweet boy. Don't you worry now. Mommy loves you." _Pity_."What's wrong with that boy? He always looks so sad. Doesn't he ever smile?" _Laughter_."Aren't you glad you were spared such inauspicious beginnings? Family is a lie. You should be glad you're here... with me." _

Images twisted in his skull and the Joker's green eyes glowed with menace. How fucking hard was it to get a clue? What would it take? Bruce didn't get it. It was ok that he and the Bat were connected. They were two of a kind, brothers in chaos. As far as he was concerned, they could drown the city in blood together or each other. Either way worked for him.

But Bruce Wayne, that was something else entirely. Bruce Wayne had nothing in common with him. He was merely a contrivance, a mask. There was no Bruce Wayne, not really. There was only the Bat. Just like there was only the Joker. His brother was always trying to reach out to someone that didn't exist... and they said that _he_ was insane. Geez.

What would it take? Joker looked over at the little girl. He studied her, so many possibilities. Their minds were so malleable at that age. Had he ever been like that? He couldn't remember. He must have been a child at one time. Unless, of course, it was true that he had sprang full foamed from man's own depravity. He liked to tout that possibility. He rubbed his eyes lightly. He was really getting a headache. Someone would have to pay for that.

His keen snake mind slithered through all the ways he could reveal his displeasure to Brucey-boy. He'd been such a disappointment lately. Hardly any fun and games at all, then there were all the costumed crazies taking away his one on one time with the Bat. Maybe he needed to do a little house cleaning. Who did they think they were? Gotham was _his_ town. If you wanted to play here you needed permission first from Gotham's "Clown Prince of Crime". What kind of idiots came up with these monikers? Joker made a mental note to find out so he could gut them properly.

Joker sat back down and leaned back in the chair. There was a water stain on the ceiling above his head. It looked a little like goat... then a flayed man, then one of those Mandelbrots, skewing eternally inward. Soon his racing thoughts slowed as he traced the moldy image around and around. The Joker shut his eyes and slept.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The aroma of something that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon toast woke the Joker. His stomach growled. "Yeah, right back at ya," he mumbled in response.

Looking over at the other chair he noted that his little minion was gone. He stretched out like a jungle cat and tucked the Glock back in its holster. He wasn't sure why he wasn't concerned about letting the little girl have the run of the house but he wasn't. Somehow he just knew that she wouldn't do anything stupid like call the police or run away. It was all there in her eyes.

He prided himself on his ability to understand human nature despite being devoid of it himself. That uncanny ability to know what others would do before they themselves did, had made him quite the success in his chosen profession. His current situation was no different. This kid had glimpsed the true nature of the world and was forever changed by it. He didn't have anything to worry about.

"Toast the only thing you got to eat in there?" he called out over his shoulder.

The little girl appeared in the doorway to the kitchen a second later. "We have cereal too."

Joker pondered, "What kind? It's not that cardboard fiber shit is it?"

Emily shook her head, "Fruit Loops."

The Joker smiled, "I'll take a bowl of Fruit Loops and two pieces of buttered toast. And don't burn the toast."

"We have apple juice too," the girl offered.

Joker's eyes roved over to the nearby side table and came to rest on a bottle of vodka. He shrugged, "That'll do I guess." He leaned over and grabbed the bottle.

The girl had paused in the doorway watching him intently.

"What?"

She looked at the bottle in his hand. "When my mom drinks she gets mean and hits me."

"Yeah?" Joker cocked his head, "I'm already mean so you don't have to worry about it."

Emily giggled and ran back into the kitchen.

The Joker shook his head. "Kids. Can't live with them, can't bury them in the backyard."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Breakfast was pleasant enough and after a couple of shots of vodka the irritation and anxiety that was threatening to erupt into violent action had settled to a dull throb. Joker figured this was probably the most time he had spent in a home environment in ten years. Now he remembered why he hated it so much. It was all just a reminder of the pointlessness of human existence. From the cheap ceramic figurines to the little girl playing at his feet they were nothing more than distractions from the reality of the situation. How could anyone stand it he wondered?

The Joker sat back in "his" chair and leaned his head back. The headache from earlier had returned along with a pressure behind his eyes. Great, just great. Now he was starting to feel like he wanted to climb out of his skin. He figured someone would have to die soon just to take the edge off. A light tinkling sound from the hall brought the Joker instantly alert. He shot up from the chair, weapon in hand. Talk about a fortuitous coincidence he mused.

Keys.

"Emily, sweetums' I want you to listen very carefully," Joker whispered. "I'm going to hide in your mommy's bedroom for just a minute then I'm going to jump out like a Jack in the Box. It's going to be a biggg surprise..." he fixed her with a deadly stare, "Don't fuck up my surprise."

"I won't," she agreed.

The Joker made a split second decision about the scene that was about to play out. He wanted to know if he was right about the little girl. This would either be an amusing game or a bloodbath. Either way it would be fun. "I want you to pretend like I'm not here. You understand?"

Emily looked up at him with those blue doll eyes and he gritted his teeth. "Uh huh, I know just what to do," she pledged solemnly.

"That's a good girl." He heard the key slip into the lock. As the Joker stepped into the bedroom doorway he paused and put his finger over lips. Emily smiled. He melted into the shadows as the door swung open.

Glen staggered into the room reeking of cheap whiskey. He let out a raucous belch and laughed. Slamming the door, he turned to find Emily standing calmly in the middle of the living room. "Hey Kid, where's your mom?"

Emily shrugged, "She's at work."

Figures, he snorted and wobbled toward the nearest chair. On the way he noticed the half full bottle of vodka and grabbed it. "Go get me a glass with some soda in it."

"We don't have any soda," Emily stated flatly.

"Well, get me some juice or something," when the little girl didn't move, he bellowed, "Now!"

Emily shuffled off to the kitchen while a still shadow watched from the dark bedroom. Glen watched the child move off. "Disrespectful little brat," he grumbled. "Hurry up!"

There was the sound of a cabinet door opening and closing, followed by the fridge door. "What the hell is taking you so long? Get your ass back in here right now!"

Emily came running back into the living room. Her eyes riveted to the glass she held, watching closely to make sure none of the liquid spilled as she moved. Just as she got to the chair her foot hooked on a throw rug and she stumbled forward, the juice arching out and landing in Glen's lap. Glen wobbled to his feet, "Of all the stupid ass moves!"

He backhanded the girl. She fell to the floor in a heap, her mouth bloody. He grabbed at his pants leg. A dark stain was spreading outward. "Clumsy little bitch," he growled. "Look what you did!"

But instead of fear the child looked at him with a bloody smile, her laughter like the tinkling of bells.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Glen roared. It was then that he noticed she seemed to be looking at something over his left shoulder. Confused, he turned.

The Joker stood behind him grinning. The clown faced man brought his hand up and waved with his fingers. The wounded man was too stunned to do anything but gawk.

"Hello Glen," the Joker announced pleasantly, then slammed the man in the face with his fist. His head snapped back and the Joker hit him again. Following in close, he used his elbow to ram into the side of the Glen's head. He went down hard and didn't move.

Joker stepped over the man's prone form to where the child sat on the floor. "Do you have duct tape?" he inquired.

She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and nodded.

"Go and get it for your Uncle Joker."

"Ok," she agreed amiably.

He sighed and looked at his watch. He still had about three hours before it would be dark enough to leave. He looked down at the unconscious man. There had to be something he could do to kill time, or kill.. something. A slow, lazy, smile played across his face. He brought his foot back and kicked the man in the side. He didn't get a response so he kicked him again harder.

"I found it," announced the little girl from the doorway.

"Good girl," the Joker held out his hand. "Wanna have some fun?"

o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

"There's a couple of ways you can go," he told the little girl. "If you want him to die slow.. to sufferrr.." he drawled, "Then strike here." He indicated the man's abdomen. "Stick the knife in as hard as you can and twist back and forth a few times." He mimicked the motion. The man's eyes grew wide and he blubbered beneath the duct tape gag.

"Now, if you just want to get the job done.. you can slit his throat. A clean stroke across the neck like this," he instructed. "Up to you. Just depends on your mood."

The little girl nodded intently.

The Joker leaned back and waited. This father stuff wasn't as hard as he thought. It was actually kind of fun. But he knew his limitations. He'd come close to killing Harley more times than he could remember and she wasn't nearly as annoying as a kid could be. He had to face it, he just didn't play well with others. Best that he stick with the plan.

The child looked at the bound man with pure unadulterated hatred in her eyes. The Joker thought it was wonderful. No hypocrisy there. Emily raised the blade in her small hand. The clown faced man felt a moment of pride at the child's determination.

"I hate you so much," she explained and drove the blade down over and over. The man started screaming beneath his gag.

The Joker smiled.

The child eventually stopped, her little arm tired.

"That was very good, Emily". He looked at the man's leg. At the very least, he'd walk with a limp the rest of his days. If he didn't bleed to death of course.

She smiled back at him.

The man continued to scream and cry. The Joker reached over and slapped him hard across the face. "Shut the hell up, you're starting to annoy me.. and you _really_ don't want to do that."

"Re..mem..ber what I said though, Emily. You have to choose the right spot to accomplish your goals. Now the leg is a good start. It's painful and potentially crippling. But if you want him dead you'll have to go for a vital area."

The child stared at him in rapt attention. "The throat to make it quick or the guts to really hurt."

"That's right, sweetheart."

"Ok," she looked over to the man on the floor.

Glen shook his head and started crying. His pleas muffled.

The Joker rolled his eyes. "For Christ's sake, be a mann..uh. What kind of role model are you?" he admonished.

The little girl leaned over and held the knife up to Glen's throat. Her face was a study of concentration.

"MMuh..eez..ezz. Em.. eee Mu…eeezz," the bound man blubbered.

The Joker watched quietly. This should be a defining moment in a child's life. He wanted her to savor it.

She touched the blade to Glen's throat, pressing until a little bead of blood pooled. She looked at her stepfather and then looked to the Joker. Tears were rolling down the man's face..

"Joker?"

"Yes, dear."

"I don't think I'm ready to do this yet."

"No?"

She shook her head. "Is that ok? You won't be disappointed will you?"

The Joker thought about it a moment. Maybe he was just the tiniest bit disappointed. She had seemed so perfect. That's what happened when you had expectations about people, he reminded himself. You were inevitably disappointed.

Emily held the blade out to him. "Could you do it for me? I'll watch, maybe I'll be ready when my mom comes home."

The Joker threw back his head and laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

*** I know its short and quick but I wanted to get it posted while it was fresh in my mind. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know?**

The grid had been covered and re-covered with no sign of the Joker anywhere. The man was a magician, the best that he'd ever seen. Batman scowled. His brother might be able to fool the police but he knew him well enough to know that despite all his insights and tricks he was only human. Maybe not normal, definitely not normal, but still human none the less. He couldn't just disappear into thin air. Unfortunately, that didn't help all that much. Jack was capable of doing pretty much anything. And in this case, it meant that he might be holed up in someone's home.

"The call came in just before seven." All he had to do was look at Gordon's face to know it was bad.

"What?"

"Dispatch just got a call from over on fourth. A little girl…"

Bruce felt his heart leap into his throat. Had his brother killed a little girl? "Dead?"

"No, she's alive. Apparently, she was the one that made the call. But what they found... he killed her parents. Trademark stuff, bloody"

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut tight. No. Not again. "I want to come with you."

Gordon nodded. "I'm headed there now. Give me twenty to secure the scene then I'll give the all clear."

Bruce turned away and launched himself to the rooftop. More death. More insanity. And it was _his_ fault, not his brother's. Jack wasn't responsible for his actions. No matter what anyone might think of the Joker, he was truly insane and it was _his_ responsibility as family to make sure he wasn't allowed to hurt anyone. He had failed spectacularly. Those deaths were on his head. Not just these deaths, but if the Joker had slipped the police net then it would only be a matter of time before another incident. He only hoped that there was some evidence at the scene that could point in the right direction.

The grappler swung wide and he levered himself down to ground level, across from the building where the little girl had been found. Damn it. It was within three blocks of where the Joker had last been spotted. He had been right in their midst the whole time. He moved shadow to shadow until he caught Gordon's attention. The policeman discreetly motioned to a second floor window.

Bruce waited until the coast was clear and followed his brother's footsteps, landing in a sea of pink. He looked around the room at the dolls and the stuffed animals. Was there nothing human left in the Joker at all? How could he do something so heinous as to take away this child's family? He resolved to see to the girl's upbringing himself. It was the only thing that he could do at this point.

Movement outside the bedroom made him stiffen but the opened door revealed only a harried Gordon. He didn't waste time. "The mother and the mother's boyfriend," he motioned, "In the living room. About how you'd expect. He does like his knives."

"Where's the girl?"

"EMTs are checking her out right now." Gordon started to pace. "He was in here with her all night. There's no telling what he did to that child. The sick freak. If he put his hands on her..."

"He didn't hurt her, not in the way you're thinking."

"Right. And you know this...?"

"He's not a pedophile." His brother had committed some truly evil acts in his career but he had a clear modus operandi. "He's a... a crusader for chaos. Call it a code, if you want. He seldom strays from it and not without good cause."

"Like that makes me feel any better. There's nothing he's not capable of, you know that!"

"True. But the Joker doesn't get off like that.. it wouldn't interest him. He wasn't playing a specific game last night. He wasn't trying to teach someone a lesson. This was simple survival for him. He needed haven. The couple was unnecessary, he had all the leverage he would need in the child."

"I guess we'll find out soon enough won't we."

"We have enough to worry about without adding that, believe me. Whatever happened here, horrific as it might have been, it wasn't that."

Gordon looked anything but convinced. Not that he had reason to be anything but suspicious. "Give me a few minutes to clear the place for you."

Bruce nodded. "I'll look around in here and see if there's anything that might help." The moment Gordon was gone, Bruce headed back over to the window. There were scuff marks along the wall under the pane. The Joker was injured enough that coming through the window had been difficult.

He swung around, his eyes scanning the corners. Nothing obvious jumped out at him. He walked around the bed and noticed something spread across the bedspread. He ran his hand over the grainy substance and pressed it between his finger and thumb. It smeared brown. Huh. He brought it to his nose and sniffed, then cautiously, licked his finger. Chocolate chip cookie crumbs. He brushed his hand across the bed again. A lot of chocolate chip cookie crumbs.

His brother was very fond of sweets. He often seemed to live on only sugar. There were two glasses on the bedside table. One was half full of water, the other empty. He sniffed it. Two glasses of water, so, he stayed in here with the girl, at least for a while.

There were no signs to indicate that the girl had been restrained. No rope or tape. There were no signs of a struggle, nothing broken or out of place. There was every indication that cookies and water had been shared. So the Joker had probably charmed the little girl. Jack was a showman. He performed all the time but the playfulness invariably turned deadly... as it had here. A child would probably be quick to acquiesce to adult authority, that might be why she was still alive.

Gordon poked his head in the door and motioned. "You've got five. The ME and CSI are both on the way."

Bruce took a deep breath and stepped into the living area.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Nothing appeared to be disturbed in the front room of the apartment. No furniture overturned, no broken glass, or scattered mementos. It looked like what you expected any home to look like, except, for the sheet covered body against the wall. There was even an old television playing cartoons in the background. It lent the tableau a bizarre air.

Bruce quickly stalked over to the body and pulled back the copper stained covering. His eyes closed briefly as he inspected his brother's latest handiwork. He didn't have long, anything he could glean that might tell him what his brother had planned next. And he would have something planned next. The police had kept him on the run and he wouldn't appreciate that at all. He would come back swinging and soon.

The man's throat had been slit. Bruce studied the wound. The blade had been drawn across his throat from right to left. Given the depth and angle, that meant that his brother would have been next to him on the left. Something wasn't right.

The man's leg had been stabbed at least fifteen times... his right leg. Why would you stab someone in an obvious frenzy then get up and move to the other side and slit his throat cleanly? The cut to his throat had been very precise and controlled, nothing like the marks on the man's leg which were shallow and sloppy. What did it mean?

"And the mother?"

Gordon looked towards the doorway, "She's in there, on the bed. Slit her throat as well."

Bruce motioned towards the other room and Gordon nodded. The bedroom was no more than four good steps away from the living area. Bruce turned back and looked at the angle of the body and then headed into the other room. There was another copper stained sheet covering the bed and a still form outlined beneath it. How could he do something so vile as to kill the child's parents right in front of her? Did he? Or would he have spared her, tucked her away where she wouldn't have to witness the acts?

The Joker would have nothing to gain in being so barbaric but that didn't mean that he would care one way or the other what the child witnessed. It was nearly impossible to predict his brother's behavior. It would wildly shift from day to day and from situation to situation but he'd become an expert on reading his brother's moods from the carnage left in his wake.

"The boyfriend died first?" Bruce walked back into the living room.

"We're not one hundred percent yet but it looks like it, yeah." Gordon looked beaten down. Bruce was glad the mask hid more than just his identity. He was sure his expression would speak of the guilt and overwhelming despair that he felt every time he visited the Joker's crime scenes.

He bent down over the body again. The Joker wasn't exactly known for his self-control. It was possible that he had gone into one of his famous killing frenzies and then... what? Reined himself in? Why bother? No, he'd slit their throats. That was the Joker's way of dispatching them expediently, but using a knife, he still got to enjoy the one on one. There was no evidence of torture beyond the wounds on the man's leg. No matter how it appeared to the casual observer, the Joker was always focused... even when he was out of control. Something just crawled along the back of his mind.

"Would it be possible for me to talk with the child?"


	3. Chapter 3

While he waited for Gordon to finesse a conversation with the little girl, Bruce examined the mother's body more closely. Her throat had also been slit. One quick, decisive cut meant to end her life expediently and quietly. Glancing down at her hands, he noted that her wrists were bruised. At some point, his brother had restrained her arms, possibly to guide her into the bedroom and to her death. Her clothes, while mildly disheveled, didn't indicate any sexual aggression on Jack's part. The only time he had known Jack to commit rape was to make a point. That wasn't the scenario here.

Bruce took a step back and pieced it together. The Joker was wounded and on the run. He realized he needed to hole-up and ended up in this apartment. He entered through the child's bedroom where she apparently fed him cookies. Then... what? The mother and her boyfriend come home and Joker kills them because it's the easiest, most expedient way. Maybe. But maybe not. It was all about the game. What would this move gain the Joker?

Bruce shook his head. Think it through. He stared at the woman's body. The Joker killed both the adults so he wouldn't have to be bothered but the child would be much more of an irritation to him than the adults. So he killed them for another reason? And spent time with the child? His mind wandered to another child, a beautiful green eyed toddler. Bruce's expression hardened. This would get him nowhere. There just wasn't enough evidence to formulate a theory. He needed the girl.

Batman looked over to where a couple of Gordon's trusted officers were hovering over the child, attempting to comfort and reassure. Odd thing, she didn't look like she needed any comforting. She looked perfectly content. Of course, shock could manifest in many ways.

He watched the little girl, carefully. Her face was placid and calm, not blank just composed. There was no fear and very little interest in what was going on around her. She was looking at her feet and wiggling her toes. Something about her disturbed him. In fact, she reminded him a bit of his brother.

Gordon frowned, "I shouldn't. This could open us up for all kinds of legal ramifications. Besides, the kid is traumatized enough."

"I won't upset her," he reassured. "Your people don't seem to be getting anywhere. Let me try." There had only been two other people in the apartment at the time, his brother and the little girl. She was the only one that could tell them what really happened here. There was more to this than just a simple killing by the Joker.

"A six foot bat is going to do better?" Gordon scoffed with a slight smile.

"Never know. But the longer he's out there, the more likely someone else will get hurt," he reminded. Every second that he was here was another second that Jack was getting farther away.

Gordon ran his hand through his hair then nodded. "Guys," he motioned to the two officers with the child. "A moment." Gordon leaned down at eye level to the child. "Would it be all right if my friend here spoke with you?" He motioned to the Batman. "I know he's pretty scary to look at, but I promise you, he won't hurt you."

"I know about Batman," Emily replied. "I know he won't hurt me."

"For just a minute.." Gordon walked to the other side of the room, watching for any indication that he needed to get his leather-clad friend out of there.

"Your name is Emily, right?" he tried to smile through the mask with mixed results.

The little girl nodded. She was still staring down at her feet.

He needed to be as nonthreatening as possible. "That's a pretty name. I like it."

"Is that like an armor shell?" She looked up at his suit, "Like an armadillo?"

Batman smiled, "Yeah, it is. Helps keep me from getting hurt."

"Does it stop bullets?" Now she seemed engaged.

"Mostly." He knocked his fist against his chest a few times and the child smiled. "Emily, can you tell me about when the Joker was here with you?"

"He locked me in the closet. I didn't see or hear anything," she announced by rote.

Why did that sound rehearsed? It was obvious by the evidence in the bedroom that she had been with his brother. At least long enough to get cookies and water. "I help people. That's what I do. You understand? And I want to help you. I stop bad guys from hurting people. I won't let the Joker hurt you. You don't need to be afraid to tell me anything."

She shook her head, "I didn't see or hear anything."

Now he knew that something was very wrong. There was more to this. "Anything might help, no matter how small. Maybe there's something you haven't told the police? It's very important. The Joker is a very dangerous man. We need to find him."

"Then what?" The child stopped fidgeting. "What happens to him?" she asked.

That was odd. Why ask about what would happen to the man who had just spent the night terrorizing you? "Well, when we find him, then, he goes back to a hospital, where he can't hurt anyone. Including himself."

"He wouldn't hurt himself." Emily crossed her arms over her chest.

Bruce's eyebrows rose slightly. He sat down next to the little girl. "You said the Joker locked you in the closet?

"Uh huh," she agreed, her lower lip now protruding.

He'd have to tread carefully or she might close off entirely. "The whole night?"

She nodded.

Just press a little further. "You didn't talk to him?"

"Nu uh." She shook her head but she certainly didn't sound as definite as she should. "He asked me about who was here and when my mom was going to come home but that's all."

"Emily, there are cookie crumbs all over your bed."

She put her hands in her lap and took a deep breath, "I like cookies."

Well, he had to give her credit for sticking to the story. "There were two glasses of water on the bedside table. One was yours... and was the other for the Joker?"

The child chewed her bottom lip but didn't answer.

"He came in through your bedroom window. Did you, maybe, talk to him ...before he locked you in the closet? You're not in trouble. None of this is your fault. Whatever happened, whatever the Joker did, none of it was your fault."

"It's not that..." the little girl furtively glanced over to Gordon and his men.

"The police only want to help too. I know Jim Gordon pretty well. He's a good guy. He has two kids not much older than you." Bruce watched her reactions closely, "There's something you don't want to tell the police?"

She put her finger to her lips, "Shh."

"If the Joker threatened you, said he would hit you or hurt you in some way. I'll protect you. I don't want you to worry about that." What the hell had gone on last night?

"He wouldn't do that," the little girl stated succinctly.

Another comment about the Joker that implied more than what the little girl was admitting to. "How do you know he wouldn't?"

"Because, I didn't give him a reason to."

Again, there was the implication that she had spent more time with Jack than what she was admitting to in her rehearsed story. "You think the Joker needs a reason to hurt people?"

"Sure."

"Do you know why he hurt Glen?"

The little girl's eyes were suddenly much older than her years. She shrugged, "Maybe Joker knows who deserves to be hurt and who doesn't."

Batman swallowed a lump in his throat. This was sounding worse and worse all the time. "And Glen deserved to be hurt?"

Emily looked him square in the eyes and replied, "Joker must have thought so."

He searched the little girl's face and suddenly he understood why she reminded him of Jack. There was the same slightly detached look in her eyes as if she was above the world around her, a mere visitor to reality as everyone else knows it.

His brother's prophetic words came to him, "_All it takes is one bad day_... how many had Emily had?"

"Emily, I know you don't know me and you have no reason to trust me but you can believe me when I tell you that I don't want anything bad to happen to the Joker. That's why I need to find him as soon as I can before the police or anyone else. They wouldn't understand. But I think, maybe, you understand."

The little girl eyed him with suspicion. "You fight with him all the time and you lock him up. How come you want to help him now?"

Batman sighed lightly and looked over to where the police were hovering, "It's complicated and it would take too much time to explain."

"I understand." She nodded, "You love him, right."

Bruce started slightly. What the hell had Joker told this child? He wouldn't admit their familial connection to anyone. His brother lived and breathed his carefully constructed persona. It wasn't just an act. He _was_ the Joker with or without the war-paint. To admit to anyone their relationship would give him an identity other than the clown. He would sooner die.

Bruce leaned in, "Why do you say that?"

"Cause he loves you too."

Bruce couldn't have been more shocked if his brother had strolled in and surrendered. "What did he tell you?"

The child smiled, "He talked about you. You're like his best friend, I think."

He didn't even know what to say to that. Frankly, the situation was surreal. "It might be better if you didn't tell the police about that part."

"They wouldn't understand, I know. Don't worry, I wouldn't hurt him either."

Bruce was relieved yet felt sorry for the child. She was obviously in need of serious psychiatric help and now she had a misperception of his brother that could be deadly. Would his brother try and see her again? Unlikely... but not impossible. You couldn't predict chaos and you couldn't predict the Joker. "I need your help, Emily. If I give you a way to contact me would you call me if you hear from the Joker again?"

She scrunched her face, "I don't know." She looked over at the police. "They won't help, you know. It will just make things worse."

Bruce leaned in a bit closer trying to keep his voice as low as possible. "I promise you, if you will call me I'll come get the Joker myself. No police."

"What if he doesn't want to go with you?"

"He never wants to go with me but he needs my help. Sometimes, the Joker doesn't see things like they really are and it makes him hurt people. I don't want that to happen so I take him... to a hospital."

"Just because people see things differently, doesn't make them crazy, you know," Emily offered sagely.

"Excuse me, Batman, child services are on their way up," Gordon interrupted.

Frustrated, he nodded, "I understand." Covertly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a secure cell phone. "Thank you for talking to me. Emily, maybe we can talk again some time? I only want to help, please believe that." Turning slightly away from Gordon, he slipped the phone into her hands. "You take care of yourself."

The little girl looked at the phone then placed it into her pocket. "You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself," she smiled lightly but it never touched her eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Joker strolled into his latest hide-out like he owned the world. And, in many ways, he did. He pressed his hand to his wounded side. It still ached like a bitch but he found he wasn't in all that bad a mood any more. Maybe, he wouldn't kill any lackeys after all. Maybe.

"Oh, boys! Uncle Joker is home! Come out, come out wherever you are." His keen eyes took in his surroundings carefully. Most of his true enemies were dead but that didn't mean that some nitwit, hoping to make a name for himself, wouldn't try to off him. Besides, paranoia was a good thing, it made your toes tingle.

There was some shuffling in the corner and a timid voice squeaked, "Boss?"

"Who the hell else would it be, Shiffy." Poor little schizo Shiff, loyal as a dog and just about as smart.

The timid little man ran forward, "Boss! Thank god. The news said they had you cornered over on the east side. We didn't know what to think." He rubbed his hands against his pants legs. "Should have known they'd never get you."

"Yeah, you should have known. Where's the rest of the boys?"

"Deke and the others went to check on that project for you. They should be back in a few. I stayed to watch the place. You want I should get you something to eat?"

The Joker ran his hand through his tangled mop, "What are you, my mother? Tell you what I need you to do for me." The Joker put his arm around boney shoulders, "I need you find me a paneled van. Something non-descript, got it?"

Shiff nodded enthusiastically.

"Bring it back here, gassed up and ready to go. We're gonna make something go boom."

Shiff smiled, "I like that. You always make it so pretty."

Joker patted his head, "I know you like it. You're a good dog, Shiffy. Go on now." He watched his lackey dash off. He shook his head. Seriously, the mentally deranged were a goldmine, he thought. Now he just needed to decide what his target would be. What would be the proper payment to the Gotham PD?

He strolled over to a kitchen area that the gang had set-up. He looked in the fridge and settled on some orange juice. They needed to be taught a lesson, one that they would remember for a long while. You would think after blowing up a hospital and various other assorted locations that they would have already learned to just leave him be... but no. The Bat was teaching them bad habits.

The mob had yet to really recover from the shit storm of lawfulness that had descended on the city after Harvey's "death". Of course, he was also partially to blame for that as well. He couldn't seem to help himself. He liked to fuck with the criminals almost as much as he liked to fuck with the rest. After all, they weren't any different really. The same old blah, blah, money, power, fame, at least the stiffs were funny.

The Joker slid into the nearest chair and leaned his head back. The Bat would, of course, be on the case. He hadn't spoken to him in months. Not since his little game at the stadium. Brother Bat had been positively grim, that was some fun shit, he mused. He could give him a call, drop a few hints, make sure that the Bat would be around for the boom.

Joker tapped his fingers on the table. Of course, that's what everyone would be expecting him to do. No doubt the police were ready to shit themselves in anticipation of how he would retaliate. So in truth, he didn't need to do anything. He could sit back and watch the tension mount and mount until it exploded on its own. He was just so fucking bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. Steal, kill, maim, try your damnest to teach people a valuable life lesson and still they won't listen. It was enough to make a clown want to hang up his greasepaint.

Still, he had a reputation to maintain. It was a necessary evil. When pushed, he had to push back, if he didn't he'd soon have every little puke with delusions of grandeur in his face. That would be annoying. So back to the boom. Someone would have to pay for his displeasure and it would have to be in a public way. Joker downed the last of the orange juice and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. White paint smeared across his knuckles. There had to be a way to make it interesting, a plan within a scheme, that could be fun. It would give Brother Bat something to do too, don't want to leave him out, not when he always went to the trouble of hunting him so diligently. That would just be rude.

The Joker stood, peeling off his coat. He walked slowly towards the bathroom humming a tune. He'd have to come up with something really special. He could even dedicate it to his brother. He'd hate that, probably pop another blood vessel. That was always amusing. Family was just so much work sometimes. Family. He had a kid somewhere. Some place far away from Gotham if he knew Brother Bat. Still, if he really wanted to find Harley, he would.

Truth was, he didn't really give a shit but something was stirring in the back of his mind and he wasn't quite sure what it meant. No doubt when it was fully formed it would be glorious. His inspirations usually were. He needed to take it one step further than he ever taken it. Bring his legend to new heights.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bruce peeled off the last of his armor and fell back into the chair. He'd been on the move for more than forty eight hours now. They'd been close this time, really close. He tossed his gloves onto the nearest table. It was too late now. They'd missed their window of opportunity. The Joker would go to ground for a few days while he put together a response.

Depending on how angry he was, they could expect anything from an annoying prank to utter devastation. Luckily, for everyone concerned, the Joker had been in a mellow mood of late. His actions while still dangerous had been little more than playful. While the Gotham PD might not see it that way, Bruce was grateful for the respite. He liked to think that he had something to do with the recent lack of lethality on the Joker's part.

Doctor Bradshaw's suggestions on how to deal with his brother's behavior had actually been working to some degree. Psychopaths got bored apparently... dangerously bored. They needed constant stimulation and he was happy to oblige if it would keep his brother focused on him and not on innocents.

Of course, it was never that simple. Too many things would catch Jack's attention. Once Jack started to obsess over something, there would be no distracting him. He would latch onto something and not let go until he'd torn it to shreds. Unfortunately, that "something" was usually "someone" that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. When that happened, you could never predict the outcome. Take Emily Ross.

Bruce leaned back, dragging his hand across his face. What had really happened that night? Could that sweet looking little girl really be complicit in two deaths? No, whatever had happened, in the end the only one responsible was Jack. Even if she was involved, it wasn't her fault. The child was obviously ill and Jack would have played to that. Again, it wasn't that simple. It was more than that. Jack had actually engaged the child, made a connection in some way, sick though it might be. What did that even mean?

He'd been trying to get in touch with Bradshaw since he'd spoken with Emily at the scene. He needed to get a professional's opinion. There wasn't much time. Even now, the Joker would be planning his next move. He had to be realistic. Despite the Joker's recent rash of what passed for benevolence on his part, this incident wouldn't be so casually dismissed. No, if he was right, his brother would come back swinging. He didn't like to be pushed into a corner, especially, not by the Gotham PD, whom he considered a joke. He'd be angry and looking for some pay-back. God help them. He needed to find a way to defuse the situation. Try and get Jack focused on something else. Fat chance. He was just so tired.

Bruce closed his eyes.


End file.
